Nameless Jewel
by ManyMiscThings
Summary: A long time ago a jeweler made a deal with the devil of Fairy Tales. Now he's back to collect on his debt. And while things change rapidly around them, Rumpelstiltskin and his new plaything realize the truth. Things change, people don't. Rumpel/OFC
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello everyone! While I'm not new to fanfiction, this is my first OC fic. I just fell in love with Once Upon a Time the second I saw it, and felt the need to write a fanfiction about it. But while I was trying, I found a character developing in my head. No worries, she's not a total drama diva and the world doesn't center around her. I'll try and keep it as canon as possible with the actual story as it comes out, which will be kind of easy because MOST of the story's background is hidden SO FAR. So I'm hoping to get lucky.**

**Before you ask, YES, this OFC gets involved with Rumpelstiltskin. But it's not lovey dovey romance. ****It's cold and cruel and****, while consensual, they aren't always agreeing. So I can't wait for things like that. **

**So, I hope you all enjoy the fic, tell me what you think of the prologue, it might be a bit before the first real chapter comes out because I've only got snippets and have other things to do work-wise besides this story. So please, Rate and Review and tell me whatcha think!**

******Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time or any of the characters or rights affiliated with it. This goes true for the entire rest of my story, so I won't be posting it again. Trust me, if I did own this show, Rumpel would be on it so much more, hell, he would be the main character.  
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><p>It was cold. Moonlight shone through in clear rays through the small work shop window, particles of dust in the dirty space illuminated through the streams of luminescence before fading away as they twittered off into the night. Outside the forest was quiet with not a wolf to be heard or even a chirp of the early-rising bird. Frost dusted the window panes and the grass was beginning to crust up with the early twilight white powder.<p>

He sat alone in the cold brisk time just before dawn and just after midnight. An oil lamp sat beside him, flickering and calling out to him with a dying light to be refilled. His hands were shining with polish, fingers scrubbing mercilessly at a struggling ruby that needed just the right amount of shine. The setting had been placed on the dingy worktable. It was gleaming with hours of hard work, molding it just right to the jewel that would fill it momentarily.

A little more pressure. Just to get that small light pinkish shine that could catch the eye of any princess it desired. He would be set, this was the moment. His breath tickled his working hands as he moved closer, spectacles threatening to fall off of his face.

He was too busy to notice the small rapping at the door behind him. He was too engrossed in his work, in the perfection that was the long week of that simple ruby. But he did notice when the door burst open and cold dusk-like chill set in on him.

He whipped around, eyes wide as he took in the full appearance of his guest. Lanky, covered in dark fabric to shroud himself in the night. Literal glittering features speckled with gold to shimmer his face into a mask of poise and amusement. Eyes large and twisted and sparkling with glee. And an upturned smile, a grin like no other, that could convince anyone or anything into it's bidding all while giving said thing a settled feeling of dread that could never be shaken.

The feared shadow had finally come to call.

"It took you long enough." The working man spat turning around from his work and gripping the precious gem in an angry fist. "I sent out word for your help over a month ago. I go into town tomorrow to attempt to sell such a pitiful collection and—"

"Silence, I'm thinking." The man was interrupted by a fearsome voice. It was the faintest giggle, with a hint of sarcasm and annoyance.

"We don't have time to be thinking. You already know what I want. And I'll do anything to get it." He insisted, standing. The shadow in front of him whipped it's wandering face towards him and grinned, forcing him to sit back down in fear.

"You want talent."

So he did know the truth.

"I want to be able to succeed in my ventures in business. I have the talent…" he hesitated. "Throw in the talent too."

"Talent is a horrible kind of magic, kind idiot." The Shadow said cruelly, waltzing towards the work bench. He saw there various misshapen stones with a dull glint to them, and obviously unfitting silver and gold settings of many different sizes and shapes. "Talent is a kind of magic that requires something deep and dark. Something…" he giggled. "Something like me."

"Then can you do it?" the man begged, stone warming in his sweating palm. "I have enough gold for the moment to—"

"Bah!" the Shadow sneered, walking towards him and into the moonlight. The feared grin was worse than he imagined. His bones were frozen to the core, body unable to move or look away. He had been foolish to even attempt such a deal! But he couldn't back out, you never did with _him_.

"Gold will not be enough for something so dark and trivial. A life much be sacrificed for talent and success. It's a certain… policy of mine that I love love _love_ to uphold with _greatest importance_." His voice mimicked sing-song as he cackled at the man's newfound terror. He stepped forward, face getting directly into the man's personal space.

"Mister… what was it? Ah well, _Jeweler_. That's what I'll call you. You must give me something of _equal value_ in order for my grand gift to be given. And talent is no fuddy duddy sort of magic to deal with. _All magic comes with a price, Jeweler. _And this type certainly comes with a high one."

The man called Jeweler gulped, backing away and falling onto his table. Gems spilled onto the dusty wooden floor, sprawling in all different directions in a rainbow of light against the moon.

Could he really do this? He had no life to give! He had no heirs, or family willing to take his place, and he would not practically sell his soul just to end up being taken away. His wife was out of the question as well. She was too fragile for something like this, how dare he even think about giving her up.

The Shadow tapped his foot impatiently, shifting on both legs before sighing dramatically.

"This, _sir_, is normally where people offer me up their unborn children." He said with a click of his tongue.

The Jeweler bit his tongue. Certainly he and his wife were _trying_ for an heir to his trade, but how could he promise something he didn't have?

"My wife and I… we have not yet given birth but…" he stammered, palms slick and the ruby ready to fall from his grip.

"Just promise me the unborn child then. You know, if you aren't really interested I could just kill you for wasting my ti—"

"NO!" The Jeweler said, cowering away. "I—I will. I'll promise you my child."

"Great." The Shadow sneered, flicking his hand theatrically and conjuring up a very large and very long contract.

"The magic will be effective immediately." He said, looking the unraveling scroll up and down. "Talent in your trades and success in all business ventures you attempt. A wise choice indeed. Let's hope you use it well." He frowned a bit. "And in turn, your child, when born, will be given to me—"

"Please, not right away." The Jeweler interrupted, hands clasping together to plead. "I want to see my child grow… on their twenty-first birthday perhaps?" he asked, mind screaming at him to stop making the deal just then and take the punishment. But he was too filled with cowardice and fear and _greed_ that he could not stop himself. The Shadow seemed to sense his inner turmoil, grinning manically.

"Very well. I will collect the child on it's Twenty-First birthday. No sooner, nor after. The day of, before the sun sets and after it rises of course." He giggled to himself.

"Then I'm assuming we have a deal."

"Yes."

The Shadow hooted a whoop of joy, scuffling up a quill from nowhere in the darkness and handing both contract and pen to the Jeweler.

"I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain. Or else." He mentioned conversationally while the man signed his name at the bottom of the old parchment. His name seemed to burn into the paper, and suddenly it vanished from his grasp.

"Thank you, sir…" the Jeweler said with a suddenly dry voice, tears threatening to well up in his eyes. This was what he wanted. He had hoped for this, sought it out himself. He could not become weak now.

"Oh please, Mister Jeweler sir," The Shadow said with a crooning tone. "We are business partners, you and I. You may use my full name."

And suddenly he was gone, a whisper on the chilly winter wind as the sun began to rise on the horizon. The Jeweler watched the spot where he stood, wishing it was just a dream. But he knew it wasn't. For the second he looked at the stone in his hand, it miraculously changed to the perfect necklace piece, pristine cuts and sleek shine in all of the right places that he could have never reached before on his own.

He bent down to gather the rest of his spilled things from the floor, placing them in his stained old apron.

"Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin."

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><p><strong>AN: Well, I hope you all liked the small prologue. Now, for a small thing, this is BEFORE he gets locked up in the Kingdom dungeon. So he's still nuts, but a tad more in control of himself, because I believe from what I've seen in the small Episode 4 preview and such that he was a cool dealmaker while still being a nutcase. Please let me know what you think of my characterization of him as well, I'm always looking to improve!**

**So please, R&R, and no flaming! Gracias! Ciao!**


	2. Everyone Has a Shadow

**A/N: HELLO EVERYONE! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, I'm so surprised how many story watches and favorites I have gotten in the few weeks since I posted the prologue for this! It's so amazing for a writer to see so many people interested! But there weren't enough reviews! I'm a review-whore! I really really like them! Even if they are critisism, I'd appreciate anything you have to say about Nameless Jewel.**

**About updates: I will try to update regularly, not as long as it took me for this. This chapter was a combination of hard literary issues and the fact I was swamped with work. (I'm doing a Big Bang fic as well as this so...)** **But if I don't update sometimes don't fret, I'm trying ****my best to bring everyone a great chapter.**

**I have something important to ask everyone after this, so please check the A/N at the bottom when you're done! Thanks, and enjoy the story!**

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><p>The morning dawn rose slowly, sun taking its time as it began to illuminate over the horizon. Slowly everything began to glow with a solid golden light. The inhabitants of those trees were waking just as sluggishly; sparrows taking their time to chirp from their nests, and small woodland creatures poking their heads from their dens only when they had to. The dew upon the grass began to shine its brightest before it was whisked away by passerby animals that disturbed it's natural balance.<p>

Morning had arrived in typical fairy-tale fashion to a typical fairy-tale wood.

But in the distance of the wood, right in it's very heart, a cottage was, and had been, a-bustle with excitement of a much more sinister nature for quite some time, if it's inhabitants were anything to go by.

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><p>"But dad!" she called angrily, storming down their steps with a huff and whipping the auburn hair from her face as she continued on. Her father, Max Allenforth, continued on without paying the slightest attention to her words. His thin gold spectacles were dangling dangerously from his nose, but he disregarded it in favor of continuing his frantic search for his selling case. He was fidgeting awkwardly, eyes darting across the room in pretend worry, while he truly just could not look at the beautiful young woman his daughter had become.<p>

"Dad, Father, please listen to me!" she stopped in front of him to force his attention. She placed both hands on her hips in annoyance.

"I told you my final decision dearest. I'm sorry but I must do this!" Max insisted, reaching around her to grab the faded brown leather of his selling case.

He placed it on a nearby table to look through it's contents, his hands digging through pockets and satchels of beautiful jewels in order to find only the most precious. All were easily the perfect jewel for a woman to behold, but he was very picky in his tastes.

But she was adamant in her desire to win the argument, and thus stopped him from continuing his check of inventory by slamming the case shut. Quickly Max yanked his hands back while glaring angrily.

"Sweetheart, I'm really sorry, I am! But you know I have to do this!"

"You don't _have_ to leave Father." She scorned him. "And especially the day before something so important!" crossing her arms in disappointment, Max sighed sadly.

"My sweet, dear little gem." He stroked her cheek, and his daughter slumped her back. "You know this is an opportunity I simply can't miss! The Prince has announced his engagement, which means royals will be flocking the palace for parties and congratulations. This could be my opportunity of a lifetime, love. You have to trust me on this."

His daughter groaned in exasperation, stepping back from his concerning gesture.

"You succeed in every business venture you attempt, dammit." She flinched inwardly. She knew her father disliked her using curse words, but she felt they were necessary at the present. Max too recoiled, but only because her choice of words was so familiar and sad and heart-wrenching that it only naturally brought out the action in him. "But tomorrow is my birthday. And you're missing it for a jewelry opportunity you don't even know is there."

Max opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to continue.

"I would understand if we were in such desperate need for the money, but we have food growing out in the back farm. We have money to last us through many winters of barely any fire and a shortage of wood, which we won't find here in the, you know, _woods_." She gestured wildly to the area around her. "We are not poor, or hungry, or in danger, is what I'm saying. So you could at least miss this one little thing. Just for me. For my twenty-first birthday."

Sighing, Max bit on his lip and worried it around. She noticed her father was fretting about more than usual, sweat gathering on his tunic on a particularly chilly day. She watched as he wiped sweat from his brow. Obviously something more was going on. Her father was very talented in his trade, and had no need to worry about his sales possibly being in jeopardy. Something else was obviously bothering him.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, steeling her expression away from the anger she felt more towards a small crease of worry in her brow.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "Is something the matter?"

He looked up at her, and for a moment she swore there was a look of pity in his eyes.

Pity for _her_.

"D-Dad?" she words stumbled, for the depths of his icy blue eyes were swimming in a look she had never seen from him.

"I promise to be back in three days sweetheart." He said with a scary calmness. He shook off her gaze, looking out to the trail that began from the steps of their home out into the forest.

He took that road every time he left. It was no different this time, she tried to tell herself.

But she couldn't believe it, no matter how hard she tried.

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><p>She took to her duties like nothing was wrong.<p>

She began with sweeping the cottage, trying not to think about the emptiness around her as she grasped the handle and worked on her daily rituals. But it was impossible. The silence seemed to be more palpable around her than usual, like a dark cloud hanging over her head with some kind of evil force just waiting to spring forth. It made her uneasy, even in the usual manner of which she performed her activities. No matter how hard she tried to seem lax, and calm, and like her usual upbeat self, but she couldn't. Her hand trembled as she gripped the rough wooden handle of her broom. Her eyes kept shifting to the windows and doors as the shadow of the smallest creature blew by, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up.

Nothing had ever unnerved her this much.

She hated it. She hated being afraid.

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><p>The rest of the entire day was spent in silence. She didn't even speak to her horse when she fed him, even though he seemed just as on edge. She petted his nose silently, biting her lip in deep thought while he munched on the oats clustered in her hand. And as she sat in her usual chair in the kitchen with a steaming mug of cider in her hands she still felt that something was changing in the winds of her forest, and she couldn't think of anything else the entire night.<p>

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><p>Or the next.<p>

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><p>Or the next.<p>

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><p>Or the next.<p>

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><p>Or the next.<p>

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><p>In five days, she had not uttered one word. Her mind was too preoccupied with other things. With that same essence of darkness cloaking over her and her entire home.<p>

He had promised to be back in three days time. And her father never broke his promises.

Her throat was parched, not with lack of nourishment, but with lack of use, as she sipped her usual glass of cider.

"Alright then, time to figure out what all of this is about." She said to herself in a hushed whisper.

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><p>Cloak drawn around her like the night she stood in, she huddled into her wrappings as she made her way into the barn. Rain had begun a few hours ago, and even though it was the middle of the summer season it pounded furiously on her as she hurried along. Her horse shook its head and turned quickly watching her as she strode in. It whinnied and stomped its hooves, shaking even more as lightning struck the outside around them.<p>

"Hush now, Crumbles." she said as she began to tie his saddle around him. "I know the weather is rough, and I know I haven't been the best of friends lately, but we have to go and get my father."

The horse made another noise and tried to shy away from her advances, which in turn sparked her frustration that had been building up the entire time.

"You listen here horse, we're going out into the rain whether you _like it or not!_"

But alas, the last part of her sentence had been drowned out by a large clap of thunder that preceded a strike of lightning like no other. It caused her to whip her head around to watch its majesty, but instead of seeing the empty gateway she left behind, there stood a figure in her midst.

"Well well well…" It said above the noise clamoring around them. "Venturing out at this time of night? How very… _predictable_… for a heroine such as yourself."

Quickly she grabbed a rake beside her and held it aloft as defense.

"Who in the bloody realm are you?" she cried out with gritted teeth. The last thing she needed right now was someone in her way.

The bad feeling that had been settling in her stomach seemed to blossom into a worse feeling, like dread was settling into her very bones and turning her inside-out. This thing, this person was the source of all of her worry. She had been wondering what exactly would happen, what would change everything about her, and she didn't like it at all.

Another flash of lightning and the figure stepped into the dim light of the fire-lamp she had placed at the entrance to the barn. Thunder seemed to follow its very steps as it flounced in with a terrifying jolliness much unaccustomed to dark wizards or evil sorcerers.

Sparkles of gold enhanced sunken-in facial features. His eyes were round and unblinking, the murky brown color filling almost the entire eyeball. He wore a suit of finely tailored leather with a high collar that tried to hide his thin and equally gold-tinted neck along with scraggly unkempt hair. All of this man seemed to unsettle Crumbles, and it did the same to his owner, because the grip on her makeshift weapon tightened visibly.

It was the smile that upset her the most. It had a certain charm to it, like something any unsuspecting person would fall for, but she knew better. That smile was like the combination of a troll's hungry grin, a witch's scheming smirk, and an imp's lecherous snarl all mixed into one being. It was devious and mischievous, all of the man's secrets hidden behind a row of dirty browning teeth.

"My _name_, my venturous little _heroine_—" he giggled as he spoke, tapping his dirty fingers and in turn long and clawed nails on a stable door.

He bowed then, gesturing his hands wildly as he kicked out a mud-soaked heel.

"My name is Rumpelstiltskin!"

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><p><strong>AN: So, what did you all think? I hope it was good, personally I didn't think it was my best but I wanted to get out something for you all and this was what I had in mind. **

**There's something peculiar about this fic that I haven't tried before. You don't have to know my writing style to see it, if you are a very insightful reader you will probably notice it right away. If you find it out, I'm willing to do something a little fun. Have a character in Once Upon a Time that you don't want to write out but one you have in mind? I'd love to put it in! If you can figure out in this chapter, or even all of the next, then I will do just that for you. **

**All you have to do is Private Message me what you think is very odd about this fanfiction. It can wait, this will last until I get to that part in the story. But if you're good, you might notice right away. If you get it right, you get to develop your own character to feature in the story. **

**So how about it? Up for a challenge?**

**And don't forget! Reviews are loved and appreciated!**


	3. A Deal's A Deal

**A/N: Hello! Okay, so I know this chapter is shorter than the others so far, but I really wanted to get it out, and I had a lot of trouble writing it. I didn't, couldn't, get what I wanted out, so I just made it simple. Tada! Well, I'm happy with it, so that's all that matters!**

**By the way! Don't forget the previous chapter's contest! It's still running!**

**Read, enjoy, rate and review please!**

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><p>"Stay away." She hissed at the man before her.<p>

Rumpelstiltskin. The menace of all kingdoms, here at her barn door. No wonder she had been feeling so unnerved, so out of sync with the rest of life around her.

Without fail everyone knew that the sun would rise and set and the moon would follow its path. The rivers would flow and the grass would wave in the breeze. It was common knowledge. But with Rumpelstiltskin nothing seemed to follow its paths of right and wrong. The sun would rise and the moon with it, the grass would flow along the dirt and the rivers would stand still. He was a force of nature, something so completely powerful and so constant in the world that everything seemed to warp around him and model to his every whim. If he came knocking at your door, you sold your soul, no matter what.

But she was on a mission and had no time to abide by such fairy tales. She was in one after all, and this was only one of many foes she was sure she would have to face on the path to her father. But… why _him_? Why was it the man who made the darkest of creatures cringe at the mention of his very—albeit long and unorthodox—name?

Rumpelstiltskin cackled at her words, and completely disregarded them by strolling towards her leisurely. Despite the fact he must have come from the downpour outside, she saw that he was completely dry, or maybe the glimmering skin she could see was wet with water and gold. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that he was coming closer and closer. Crumbles stomped his large hooves and seemed to step in her way, but this only served to amuse the man and with a snicker he clapped loudly, which made the horse trot back into the depths of the stable.

With only a wooden stick to protect her against a man who could make animals work to his will, her odds seemed pretty one-sided, and they were _not_ in her favor.

"I said," she tried to keep the shudder out of her voice. "_Stay away_."

He laughed under his breath and cast her a lopsided grin.

"I don't exactly think so my dear."

"Shut up."

"I don't _think so~_" he countered in a sing-y sort of tune. It set her on edge, more than she already was.

"Why are you torturing me like this?" her exasperation seemed to cause him more amusement.

"Torture? My dearest little dear, if _this_ is what you call _torture_ then you obviously know nothing of pain and suffering." He jumped a little in excitement, and she wondered if he was going to do just that; show her true torture. But something seemed to stop him from advancing.

"That has nothing to do with this. Why are you here? And why do you not _leave_?" her voice was strained as she tried to ignore the voice in her head screaming at her to flee as far as she could, Father be damned.

"So many questions so little nightfall!" He tsk-ed his tongue repeatedly, eyes flicking around the barn stall and its dim lighting.

"I'm here because _I need to be_. And I won't leave for that, same, _REASON_." He rubbed his hands together contemplatively. "Now, it's ever-so-gracious for a host to take their guest inside on an evening such as this, and I believe that you are an ever-so-gracious host, when need be… I'm…. assuming…" he leaned towards her, and in parallel she moved back until her back let out a sickening crack.

"One, learn personal space." She grumbled at him. "Two, get away and think about number one. Three, I am not your host, nor will I ever be." She grew louder as she continued to talk, feeling a small speck of confidence try and ignite a fire within her. But when Rumpelstiltskin flashed another of his wide-toothed grins it went out like it had been doused with cold water, ice chilling her veins even through the warmth of her drying cloak.

Rumpelstiltskin cracked his neck, bending it back and forth and side to side, and the noise was sickening.

"One." He rammed a finger into her face, pushing her back with it. "You will learn some _manners, dearie. I do hate when people are rude_."

He added another finger, and thus more pressure, onto her chest.

"TWO." His voice rose momentarily, but it seemed to only be for shock value, because when the fearful look returned to her face he returned to normal volume.

"I am here for a _very specific reason_, one that you needn't worry yourself with, _yet_, but one important nonetheless. So you _will_ follow my rules until my business here is done."

With the addition of another finger she fell onto the hay-leafed ground, arms reaching backwards to catch her own fall. He knelt down in front of her, face centimeters from hers. She could feel his warm breath, smelling of stale bread and old meat, on her face, and she didn't know whether to gag or hold herself still, but she seemed forced to the latter. His gaze was empty and dark, and she couldn't move away from it, no matter how hard she tried.

"Three." His voice was lowered to a whisper. "You _will_ take me to your home, to your father, and you will do it _without hassle_. Or _else_."

As quick as he was down he was back up, a surprisingly strong arm pulling her to her feet and pushing her along.

She yelped as she was pushed, but tried to move along through the barn. Maybe if she made it close to the entrance, she could run into the forest. No one knew the trees and brush like her, and the hiding spots were infinite.

Then, his words seemed to dawn on her a little.

"My father is gone." She said, turning around to face him head-on. The night wind whirled her cloak along, and for a second she didn't see his face.

She imagined it. Finally, being able to stump the incredible Rumpelstiltskin. He wanted her Father, but why? No, that didn't even matter. He was not here, that must have been why he left! As soon as everything was safe, he would return. He was obviously okay since the imp had not gotten to him yet! And this was the icing on the cake! A selfish man like him would be enraged at not getting what he wanted. Maybe this was her chance to finally turn the tables on such a great man.

No one would deny Rumpelstiltskin the title of 'great'. He was truly an unsurpassable magician and trickster. His lies were the best, his deals permanent. There was no other better than him at making potions, concocting magical brews, and even, through rumor, spinning grain into gold on an ordinary housewife's loom. If anyone called him a hack, or talentless, even his greatest enemy would disagree. His power was a simple fact, a still point in all of the world and the worlds beyond, if there were any.

So the prospect of beating him made her heart jump several beats, then stop altogether.

For as the cloak fell away from her face, she was aghast to see the brightest of dirty-teethed grins resting upon his lips. There was no anger, no malice, only an uncontrollable sort of glee that gave her the desire to wretch. But she held it back, if not for her empty stomach, but for the unwanted but surely needed desire to discover exactly what had turned him this way.

"W-What?" She cursed herself inwardly, angry that her voice had faltered in the presence of such delight.

Rumpelstiltskin guffawed, doubling over and stomping one foot in the dirt of the ground. The laughter was like a rusty bells tinkle mixed with the cawing of ravens, and it gave her the worse feeling of dread that she had encountered the whole night.

"Oh my dear, his absence only makes my job easier!" He cackled out his words, as though the laughter could not stop no matter how hard he tried.

With a long sigh he stopped and attempted to compose himself, tittering his fingers in the air and shaking his head to obviously clear it.

"You see, he had something of mine, and he being gone only made it easier for me to collect."

"Collect what?"

"You."

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you liked it! Please don't forget the contest and reviewing!**


	4. An Intermission to Tell a Story Untold

**A/N: A Small update to bring everyone into the modern era a little bit. Did everyone catch tonight's episode and think "_Oh lord, Misc is gonna have a field day with this!_" Well, HELL YEAH I DID! I freaked out and now I can fit something in so much better, and I'm super excited! Enjoy everyone! **

**P.S. I am writing other fics on my tumblr, kittenjumper, but they aren't Once Upon A Time related. But I still talk about how the fic is coming and sometimes take suggestions. So if you are familiar, head on over there sometime!**

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><p>Just as soon as the rain had started it stopped.<p>

She looked around her eyes squinting against the glimmering raindrops stuck to everything they descended upon.

The streetlamp flickered in its fight with age, but it seemed to win out gracefully as she was only left in a second of darkness before it came back to life. She watched the street around her as is bustled with the menial life the town in which she lived housed. One car crept by like a snail upon the grass, and it's inhabitant rolled down it's window to wave at her.

"What are you doing out so late Jane?" he called.

Bundling up her long coat around her neck against the bitter cold she strode down by the curb to see him.

"Just closed up shop, Marco." She replied with a soft smile. "He had me work an extra shift tonight, although I really have no idea why."

"Well, see that you get home alright, yes?" he sent a concerned look her way, and looked as if he was about to offer her a ride, but she politely declined with a shake of the head.

"I'm fine sir. Just have to buy a warmer coat next time. I'll see you around."

They waved at each other in farewell until Mr. Marco turned around a corner, and she was left alone once more.

Staring around her, Jane took a long breath to calm herself. For some reason the night had always unnerved her normally calm soul. It seemed to call out to her, especially rainy nights such as this. It shook her to the core, screaming out with every pelt of rain that fell. It spoke to her like no human voice could, and caused her to sink into a slow mood that enveloped her soul.

_Run away._

_Hide away dear child, the rain will not fret._

_Hide away from the sadness and loss._

_Feel again, hide away from the rain._

For some reason her mind was flooded with those thoughts every time it rained in the small town she called home. She had never told anyone about them, not even the person she held in the highest confidence. Because they were her burden to bear, something she could not control and something she needed to learn to fix without outside help.

Jane continued her walk along the damp roadside as she pondered her thoughts. Everyone else was asleep, well, everyone but the few night owls that were bound to pop up in a town so small. She just happened to be one of them. She always felt better away from others, all alone in her small apartment, huddled in a corner and counting her many baubles that she has happened upon over time. Because of her strange ways everyone looked at her as though she was another trinket in Mr. Gold's collection; something to be gawked at but never touched. And she was alright with that. The less people near her the better.

Jane made her way down the street, silently cursing at how far she lived from her work. It was the only inconvenience she could think of in her uneventful life.

Wake up. Go to work. Go home. Sleep. Wake up. Start again.

All of it was so monotonous in the small town of Storybrooke… and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Just as she rounded the corner into the Main Way she paused, watching events of change unfold right in front of her eyes.

Henry, the Mayor's son, was standing in front of an unknown car with an out-of-state license plate. The car was very tacky, something Jane herself would never be caught anywhere near. Just the yellow hue was driving her to wish to attack it with mud or something else to stop it from offending her. But it wasn't just the car that was different and foreign to her. The woman next to him was _not_ his mother. She was blonde and had a sharper face, but there was certainly something in her features that made her and Henry look… _what was that? Right? Yes. They were right together._

Across from the ugly vehicle was Doctor Hopper with his dog, Pongo. They were obviously fresh out, since his jacket was only spattered with flecks of the rain that had begun to slow down. _How had she not noticed that?_

Since she knew that way was towards her home, Jane spared no thought in heading towards the group, even as Doctor Hopper left and continued on his path.

"Henry!" she called with her best fake smile. Obviously those years being his babysitter were useful to them both, because when he turned the young lad had a large smile on his lips.

"Jane!" he called, waving to her as she came nearer. The woman beside him turned eyes wide like a deer in headlights. She had small weary lines around her face, which she figured were from exhaustion.

"What are you doing out so late Henry?" Jane asked, stopping to ruffle the boy's hair. "I was surprised you didn't stop by today were you out with…?" she looked up to address the woman.

"This is my mom!" Henry proclaimed proudly. "Emma Swann."

Jane feigned shock. Obviously, that fit why the connection was obvious between them. Best to look the part, she had been taught.

"Your… Henry your mom is, ya'know, at your house." She replied gently, rubbing the back of her neck.

"I mean my _birth mom_." Henry said with a sarcastic tone.

"Oh… really?" She looked at Emma again, analyzing her up and back. "Well, I hope you're taking him home? Judging by your plates on that… ahem… car…" She tried not to snarl at it. "You're from aways away. She must be worried."

Jane gave Henry a level gaze, crossing her arms and frowning. The boy at least had the shame to look as though he had done something wrong. But then again he could never lie to her. No one could ever lie to her. They just… couldn't. She found it very useful when the average hooligan tried to lift from her dearest shop.

"Yeah…" Henry said, a little pout forming on his lips.

"Emma, Go on and get him home. He lives down the street, Mayor's Place."

"Yeah, Doctor Hopper told me." Emma replied with a gentle smile. It was probably supposed to be a nice gesture but she couldn't find herself to think of it as such.

"Good. On your way then." Jane waved, continuing to walk down the street. "See you some other time, boy."

As she heard the car begin and head in the other direction, she let the frown her had held back show as deep as it felt. Something was off about that woman, Emma Swann, she would keep an eye on her in the near future, if she stayed.

_Oh what are you kidding? Of course she'll stay! That's her son._ She thought. _You may not understand that… but… it's obvious, no?_

The thoughts continued to plague her as she arrived into her small home, shutting the door gently and locking it behind her. As she turned to head to the kitchen the light of the phone caught her eye. A voicemail.

Clicking the button, Jane listened intently.

"_One new message. Today at 7.15 p.m."_ Quickly Jane checked her watch. 7.20; she had just missed it.

"_Jane, I hope you made it home alright. I saw you left the shop late, was everything I asked taken care of? I'm sure you did your job as usual. Tomorrow, feel free to go home as early as you want. I've kept you late every night this week." _

She listened intently, the smooth accent of her employer calming her from her previous thoughts. He always had that effect on her.

"_If you insist on staying as late as you need, as you usually do, at least let me buy you a dinner or two. Think it over. See you tomorrow. Have a good evening and a restful sleep._"

Jane sighed, pressing the delete button and leaning against the wall. She thought over his offer, and smiled a bit as she came to her decision.

Looked like tomorrow was going to be another late night.

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><p><strong>AN: Well? Did everyone enjoy the small change? I gave her a name, but it isn't Jane. her name is a play on John Doe, the name given to unknown men. Jane Doe is for women. So that's her name for the time being. **

**On my contest: It's over. I think everyone understood it, but it was just too vague and wasn't being thrown in anyone's face. It was the fact _she had no name_ that was unusual. But, ah well, I had fun with it. People pointed it out, and I guess I could give it to them on a technicality... Hm... ;)**

**Please rate and review, and I hope to see you all reading next chapter! Whenever I finish it! Everyone ready to head back into fairy-tale land and find out what he has in plan for her?**

**See you all soon!  
><strong>


	5. Lifes Hard

**A/N: I need to update more, don't I? I know, I'm so sorry, but studying for big college tests is difficult! Ah well, I bring you a new chapter!** **The thing about this chapter is that I had no way to write it right after the last time we saw HER and Rumpel. So I started off six months later. But I will give flashbacks into their time together, and it will help tie into the relationship. This**** is also my first time writing for HIM, at the very end, so tell me what'cha think!**

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><p>The second she felt the warm sun on her face she was awake. It had taken a long time to get used to it, but she knew her routine by now. At first she didn't <em>want<em> to learn it. Maybe it was out of spite for the situation she was in. Maybe it was out of contempt for the man who _caused_ her to be in this situation. But either way she had no desire at all to comply with the rules set forth like laws of life and meant to be followed every minute of every day.

She stood and stretched, not wanting to dawdle, and began to straighten out the clothes she had worn from the day before changing into new ones. Luckily he had noticed that she was a _real person_, and thus required more than one article of clothing over a period of a week. Three shirts and two pairs of light trousers that fit less than snugly were her entire wardrobe, but that was no matter. A simple strand of rope around the waist kept them attached to her just fine. She wasn't used to having lavish things, no matter how much her father made from his job, and she always told him to put it towards himself rather than spending it on bountiful dresses and things for her.

If she could see him now, she would tell him to stick it up his lying ass.

She finished changing and went straight to work, grabbing the broom and sweeping away the hay that had settled around her barn-yard like room. Once that was done she went to the hallway to begin grabbing at the buckets of water to be taken to the well.

"_I'm not doing it. I don't have to."_

"_Ohoho, but you do my dearie. It's right there in all plain print."_

"_Those are my father's words, not my own. My soul is _mine_."_

"_Not anymore. It never truly was."_

She quickly walked into the blaring morning light, eyes squinting against the darkness of the windowless room she had grown accustomed to in the night. She hauled the two wooden pails to the small rusted well and began quickly pumping the water to fill them.

Once that was done she had already broken into a light damp sweat from the heat, and looked up at the sun in angry spite.

"Seriously?" she hissed, wiping off her forehead with the back of her wrist before hauling up the buckets and carrying them back up the rickety wooden steps and into the dusty hobbled shack of Rumpelstiltskin's _home_.

"_This is where you'll be living as my guest; do try to make yourself comfortable."_

"_I'm not living here."_

"_What do you intend to do, run away?"_

"_If that's what I have to do."_

"_Heehee, you're a strong one I cannot deny that. But strength doth not equivilate to power, or, for the matter, the ability to foolishly win."_

"_Equivilate isn't a word."_

"_Good, you're a smarty dearie! That will come in handy with the job I have planned for you~uu."_

"I've got the water for stew!" She called out, voice echoing through the empty house. It was only about six rooms large with two on the top and four on the bottom. She hated going upstairs because it felt like the stairs were going to give way. But he had his workroom upstairs and she had to run errands up there often. He probably did it to torture her, she figured with a grimace as she walked into the small kitchen.

They had a small area for a fire and a cauldron, as well as a countertop for more pots and pans for her to cook with. One of her daily chores was to make sure there was food, even if he didn't eat it.

She set to work, pouring one bucket into the cauldron and placing the other underneath the only window on the floor. It looked out onto fields of lush grass, the lonely cottage the only thing in the near vicinity.

"That means come down or else it'll be cold!" She tried again, and huffed when there was no reply of creaking stairs or even a chortle. Usually at this time of morning Rumpelstiltskin was either upstairs bubbling away at a new brew or sitting in the moth-eaten plush chair in the next room; positioned exactly where he could watch her every move.

In the first few months of her staying here it was unnerving; his beady golden eyes constantly watching her move about, scrubbing, cooking, and bouncing about in anger at her situation. Often he would quip jibes at her as she worked, but she learned to ignore it.

She grabbed the flints and lit the fire in its place, before grabbing the water-filled pot and putting it over the spit.

"_Your job is to clean my house. Cook my food, and do my errands, understood?"_

"_What kind of errands?"_

"_You'll know when the time comes."_

"_I'm not making any deals for you."_

"_Ohoho, don't you worry about that dearest. The deals are _my_ area of expertise. You'll be… collecting my debts."_

"_More people who sold off their children?"_

"_Not always!"_

She walked away, letting the water boil. It didn't sound as though he was anywhere through the rickety cottage, so she decided to finish the chores before he got back and messed everything up again. For being such a well-dressed man, Rumpelstiltskin was notoriously messy. He could take a pristine room and tear it to shreds with mud and dirt and sometimes blood, as well as hay and strewn grass and everything else that the outside world could attach to him and then bring it into her way.

"Why I even put up with this bastard?" She grumbled to herself as she began to sweep the main sitting room. His armchair was sitting, unmoving, dusty as usual, but he had given her specific orders not to mess with it. Her own chair was a small wooden bench that she sat in when there was nothing else to do.

"Oh, I don't know, because it's the terms of your contract?" She jumped at the lilting voice behind her, whipping her head around to send him the iciest glare she could muster. Unfortunately he wasn't perturbed in the slightest. If anything it only made his grin worsen and grow larger.

"It's not _my contract_." She snapped back at him, daring to swipe some dust on his feet. He sent her a raised eyebrow and snapped his fingers; more dust appeared on the floor than she had ever seen before.

"You know this only makes it harder for you to keep your clothes clean." She accepted defeat with a huff and began re-sweeping around the floor.

"Ah, but it's so amusing watching you squirm." He replied and sat in his chair legs crossed.

"Of course."

They remained in silence for the rest of the morning, her chores passing by like lightning and his eyes never moving away from her body. She could feel his gaze on her at all times. It sent child down her spine, such awful child like darkness itself was descending down upon her. It was obviously all of his power, seeping into her bones and bringing out all of the fear that she had inside her. _He probably lives on that fear, best not to show it_. She thought to herself, and as though he could hear her thoughts there was a smirk and a giggle behind her.

She turned around to inquire what exactly he was laughing about and was surprised to see she wasn't the subject of his mirth at all. Instead he was laughing at a glittering crown in his hand; he was twirling it about through his bony and lightly-dazzled fingers.

"What in the blazing inferno is that?" she gasped out, the sheer beauty of the glass object enrapturing her.

"It's a magic crown sweetheart." He answered as though it was a stupid question. "Straight from a fairy herself."

"So then I'm assuming you killed one?"

"Killed?" a high pitched squeak in his voice that turned to a laugh.

"Well, a fairy wouldn't _give_ you her crown, that's not how they work." She propped up her arm on her broom and smirked at him. "What do you want with that?"

Rumpelstiltskin stood, jumping on the balls of his feet and sauntering off into another room. She followed him adamantly.

"I asked you a question!"

"And I won't ans~wer!"

"Why not?"

"Because, soon you'll have to do something for me, and I want to keep it a special little secret—" he whipped around and waited until she almost ran into him, poking her in the nose. "Just. For. _You!_"

She backed away quickly, rubbing her nose in anger.

"I'm not doing any of your deal-related dirty work." She snapped at him, tone sounding more violent than she intended to. She didn't worry about it though, normally he only laughed at her anger towards him.

What she wasn't expecting was the sudden flash of anger in his face and the pain in her body as she was shoved into the old wooden walls. She lost the breath in her lungs and he took a moment to squeeze his hand around her throat. His face was a mixture of anger, rage, and hatred, eyes dark pits of smoldering fire.

"You _will_ do as I say _when_ I say _as _I say it _no matter the cost, you bitch_." He snarled in her face, and for the first time since she first met him, she was truly afraid of Rumpelstiltskin.

"_Have. I. Made. My. Self. Clear?" _he squeezed tighter on every word, and she couldn't speak, or, for the matter, breathe.

"Yghn!" she cried, hands grasping at his own and trying to claw him off.

"I can't _hear you!_" he yelled, and she felt tears running down her cheeks. He finally let a lax grip form on her neck, and she coughed heavily.

"_Yes_." She managed to hack out threw the fit, and he let a scary smile creep slowly onto his lips.

"Good. Now, go finish the stew, off you pop." He bounced on his feet again before hopping up the stairs, no doubt to get to work on the crown.

She rubbed her throat, watching with tear-stained eyes before he was completely out of her sight to scurry to the kitchen to begin making the stew broth.

_Of course. He's a madman._ She thought angrily. _How could you think you could joke with him_?

She was obviously right.

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><p>Up the stairs Rumpelstiltskin placed the crown in a corner, right on top of a rag doll that he had acquired earlier in the year. He wondered for a moment what had made him lose his temper at her; it was not as though she had never had that tone with him before.<p>

He turned to his spindle, grabbing some straw from the corner and beginning to thread it through. Obviously he did not _regret_ his actions, maybe next time, though, he would have less of a firm hand. After all the time for her being there she had never _not_ done what he said, even though she had vocalized her disagreement with the situation. No, she was a rather helpful slave, someone to keep his things organized while he was out making deals and making the world turn in a different direction.

Her company was also very amusing; she didn't mind cleaning but when it came to wiping up his messes she threw a complete tantrum. She didn't mind getting water from the well, but she felt very disappointed if she spilled a slosh or anything. She didn't mind sleeping in a haystack bed with a few sheets to cover her, nor did she mind having completely undersized clothing. He certainly could afford her better; he just liked trying to make her squirm. But unfortunately she hadn't. She had accepted it without fault.

He took some of his gold thread and began tying it in knots, passing the time from when he had to go down stairs for the usual stew.

"_HEY! DID YOU WANT POTATOES THIS TIME 'ROUND?_" he heard her voice carry through the hollow wood, and for a moment considered not answering.

"No." he said harshly, soft enough to show he was not in the mood to speak but loud enough that she could hear him if she strained her ears.

"Yessir." Was the called reply, and he could almost picture her affirmative nod.

"_Yessir_." He replied back with a mocking tone, getting back to his knots.

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><p><strong>AN: Reviews are much loved! And don't worry, I've already gotten to work on the next chapter! And I know after tonight's episode doing this thing will be kind of hard for her and Rumpel, but I have the PERFECT IDEA, if I do say so myself. Next week is another Stroybrooke intermission, ****where the relationship between the two is much more prominent.**** So tune in! And please review!**


	6. People Talk

**A/N: Hey there! Such a quick update? I know! I'm really excited to finally be getting good ideas for Nameless Jewel. Although... remind me never to ever type the beginning a month in advance beforehand. No wonder I got so little reviews last time, the chapter was AWFUL! It didn't flow right and there were too many inconsistencies, as well as the typos. Well... this one is perfect I am pretty sure of! Another Storybrooke intermission! This one is certainly more focused on the two of them as a pair, and also gives a bit more insight as to how 'Jane' is with other people, and then with Gold, because there are DEFINITELY differences.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Good morning! Guess who has breakfast!" Jane called, walking into the Pawn Shop with a bright smile and a couple of plastic bags in hand.<p>

Mister Gold walked out from the back room, a light smile on his face as he limped around the counter.

"What's got you in such a chipper mood, dearie?" he asked, looking at the contents of her hands. "Breakfast? Oh dear, I hope not from the café, It's awfully pricey there." He sent her a small look of apology, and she waved it off.

"Don't worry about it. I got our favorites. My waffles and your hash-browns, as well as some coffee." She held up a cardboard container with two cups in it. "All on my tab, since you have bought dinner for the past… what, week?" she laughed and placed the food on the glass countertop. "You need to stop doing that by the way, Red's starting to spread rumors."

She meant it as a joke, but part of her knew it wasn't. When she had walked into Granny's Café earlier that morning Red had sent her a lipstick-coated leer of knowing that she hadn't really understood.

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><p>"<em>Well well, buying your own food for once?" Red asked with a wink and a gleaming grin as she walked over to take Jane's pick-up order.<em>

"_What's that supposed to mean?"_

"_Just that you and Dear Old Mister Gold have been coming in here late the past couple of days. And he's been paying." She waggled her eyebrows in a suggestive way, but Jane was completely oblivious._

"_Well, I've been working late to complete the wood work on a piece we have, so he's just being nice paying for my food since I don't get overtime." She said with a shrug. "I'd like two coffees, one three creams three sugars and one black straight. A plate of waffles and strawberry syrup, as well as a plate of hash browns and ketchup."_

"_Whoa whoa," Red stopped writing, from what she could tell, somewhere around 'hash', staring at her in incredulity._

"_What? Seriously Red, we have no time for this I'm gonna be late!" she whined, tapping her foot. The woman bit her lip and finished writing, throwing the notepad to another server before rounding on the young woman._

"_You're buying _his breakfast_?" She asked while crossing her arms around her chest._

"_Yeah, what's the big deal?"_

_Red let out a groan of aggravation. "Oh _come on_, really? He buys you dinner, alone, at like ten at night, for like five days straight, and suddenly you're bringing breakfast into the office?"_

"_Well we hardly work at an offi—"_

"_Not gonna hear it Missie. You two are hitting it off hard!"_

"_What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jane asked, tone switching to angry. _

"_Ladies, do we have a problem here?" The two of them both turned to see Sherriff Graham walking up to them, coffee cup in hand and a smile accompanying his raised eyebrows._

"_Hey Graham~" Red said with a flirty wink and a swish of her hips. She noticed Granny calling her over at the countertop holding two bags of food and a coffee tray, and sauntered over to grab it, leaving Jane alone._

"_Jane, something going on here? No need to raise your voice." Graham admonished, and she rolled her eyes._

"_I have every right to raise my voice when Red is being a moron." She snapped, frowning as the woman herself returned and handed Jane's food to her. _

"_What's going on with you two?"_

"_Nothing." Jane snapped before Red could reply, but the woman spoke up anyway._

"_Jane's got herself a romance and she's not doing anything about it." _

_Graham raised an eyebrow. It wasn't a surprise to Jane, really. She wasn't known for socializing with anyone besides customers of the shop and Mister Gold._

"_Well, uh, Ruby…" the man rubbed the back of his head. He obviously knew that it was none of his business. "That's Jane's thing. Not ours. Why don't you grab me another cup and we'll let her on her way?"_

_Ruby smirked and winked at the both of them, leading Graham back to the countertop. Jane went on her way, checking the clock on the wall beside the door before bolting out the door and down the street. _

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><p>"Rumors?" Gold asked as he grabbed one of the plastic forks from the plastic bag and opened his carton, prodding gently at the hash browns.<p>

"Ruby seems to think it funny to go around asking if we are… well…" Jane rubbed the back of her neck as she nervously began to devour her own food. "If there's more to it than you just buying me dinner."

Gold paused mid-bite, slowly lowering his fork and closing his mouth.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, stupid right?" Jane laughed in response and picked up her carton and coffee to walk around the counter to her post. "But I told her off for it so no matter."

"I see." Gold replied, following in her footsteps and grabbing his own carton. He tried to balance the coffee on top of the food in order to carry his cane, but unfortunately it only worked for a moment. Jane noticed it wobble and took a quick dive to save it.

Instead she found herself in the compromising position that did nothing to help their current situation involving Ruby. Jane grabbed the coffee but tripped on Gold's outstretched cane, he fell over due to her legs toppling onto him, and they ended up squashed on the floor of the main entryway; hash browns and ketchup staining the front of her tee shirt between them. They both coughed, winded from the fall, and she looked down at him in horror.

On his face was a small amused smile, pain evident through the mask. Well, she _had_ just fallen on top of him. She looked around them to make sure nothing had broken, and noticed she was holding the coffee cup with a death-like grip.

"Saved the cup." She said with a cheeky grin.

"That you did." Gold said back.

They lay there for a moment, Jane afraid to move and possibly hurt him further, and she didn't know what he was thinking. Obviously this was awkward for the both of them, thank god.

"Mister Gold, I belie—"

And at that exact moment the Mayor of Storybrooke, Madame Regina Mills, decided to open the door with a tiny clink of the bell, obviously with the intent of speaking to her employer, and Jane looked up in horror.

_Yep, there goes anything_.

"And what exactly is going on here?" The woman placed her hands across her chest and tapped her heeled foot expectantly.

"Sorry, I tripped and—er—yeah." Jane scrambled up, internally groaning about the ruined state of her shirt and placing the coffee on the table before getting down helping Gold up. She gave him a quick once over with trained eyes, making sure he was alright before handing him his cane.

"Next time you should watch your feet, Jane." Regina scolded as though she was the woman's child. "I'd hate for someone to get hurt."

"Right ma'am. Yes ma'am." She grumbled back, taking one of the napkins and going to wipe the excess slop off of her shirt.

"Oh, Jane dear, I'd hate for you to have to wear that." Gold took the napkins from her gently, and for the second their fingers touched Jane couldn't help but tense up. This was more physical contact than they had in _months_, and it was strange. "Go on home and get yourself changed, the Mayor and I have things to discuss, so it's no worry."

"Are you sure?" she inquired, and he sent her an approving nod. "Thanks sir!"

Quickly she ran out of the pawn shop, but she couldn't help but hear Regina begin talking before the door shut completely behind her.

"You need to keep your distance from her, people are starting to _talk_."

Jane turned the corner and ran as far as she could after that, knowing she was no longer welcome.

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><p><strong>AN: Can I please have more reviews this time? Anything you would like to see? I love reader input, and really like making people happy, so if you want to see a certain something happen, whether it be in the Fairy Tale or in Storybrooke, feel free to message me or review your thoughts and ideas!**

**I already know what I want for the next chapter, so it might take awhile to write, because there wil be some more action. We finally get to see what she does for Rumpel _outside_ of the small cottage. **

**Rate and Reviews get cookies! ;) (and by cookies I mean faster updates!)**


	7. What's in a Name?

**A/N: Okay, so I lied about the action, but I finally decided that it needed to be done, and the scene seemed kind of amusing in my head, so I decided to type it. Tada! Two updates in one day! I'm getting better! I also wrote most if not all of it from Rumpelstiltskin's perspective, so I would _love_ opinions on that!  
><strong>

**Enjoy the treat this chapter!**

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><p>When he finally trotted down the stairs, several glass vials each containing a different color liquid in his hand, he saw that her stool was in front of his chair and held a bowl of stew, still steaming hot. Rumpelstiltskin plopped the vials into his pocket, a frown of confusion creeping upon his face. <em>Where could the little brat have gone?<em> He thought, taking a quick look around the main floor from the kitchen to her bedroom, both of which were empty. He noticed the small window in the kitchen was covered with the usual thick cloth he placed there when coming downstairs. She must have put it there knowing he was going out soon.

Oh, of course.

The buckets were missing. She must have gone out to the well once again.

Grabbing his cloak, Rumpelstiltskin decided it was time to 'apologize' to his little brat. Of course, no apologies would happen, except from her. He swung on the tattered dusty fabric over his rather nice red leather ensemble, tutting at the clash, before venturing out the back doorway and up the small hill to the well.

Lo and behold, she was there. The midday sun was rough and unwavering, the stream of heat coming down on them both. My, did he hate days like this. They were always too cheery for his liking. He watched as she hopped up onto the stone rim of the well, sitting down with her legs inside the stone cavern. She looked to be as though she was going to jump, but he soon noticed upon further inspection that she was merely adjusting the pulley atop the roof of the well. He stood there for a moment, foot tapping against the lush grass around them while he waited to see what he would do.

She was surely fixing the rope and pulley system, and quickly wiped sweat from her brow before getting back to it. That was something Rumpelstiltskin had grown to admire. No matter the chore; how daunting it may be, how impossible, how long it took to accomplish it, she never complained once about having to do it. She always kept a firm-set jaw and worked until she could move no longer. It was certainly a good trait to have in a house-servant.

She laughed to herself, obviously accomplishing her task, and Rumpelstiltskin resisted the urge to laugh with her. She was also easily amused by the smallest of things. What a child still she was. She bent backwards over the well-wall and reached for the bucket, her eyes quickly scanning the area around her. When they met his across the way, she yelped and jerked forwards, legs flailing for a moment, before she was sliding down into the depths of the well.

Rumpelstiltskin quickly jaunted up the rest of the hill, peering down into the depths of the hole. She was about ten feet down, struggling to get up and soaked from head to toe.

"Well well well dearie! Might want to watch your footing next time! Nice day for a swim though, isn't it?" he called down with a cackle. He propped his arms on the ledge, leaning in only halfway to grin down at her.

She looked up in frustration, hair (which had been cut, he noticed; it used to be to her shoulders, when had it gotten shorter?) dropping in her face and she had to blink away the drops to look up at him.

"It's _your_ fault I'm down here in the first place!"She practically screamed at him. "There I was, minding my own business, fixing your darn well and then there you were, creeping behind me! This is _your entire fault!_"

He giggled, twiddling his fingers around the rope pulley.

"Oh now I wouldn't say that, you ought not to be so easily frightened Little Gem!"

She opened her mouth to retort, but in the dim darkness he could still see her close it in thought.

"What in the king's name did you just call me?"

"Little Gem!" he retorted shrilly.

"What the heck kind of a nickname is _that_?" she barked up. "I _have _a _name_ you know!"

Rumpelstiltskin snickered. "Oh of _course!_ How could I have _possibly_ forgotten! And pray tell me dear…" he leaned forward, almost to the point where he would have fallen in too, but he was much too graceful for that.

"What exactly is your name?"

She glared daggers up at him.

"Like I would _ever. Tell. You_." She snarled, beginning to attempt to climb out. The walls were slick and slippery with thin grime and wet stone, and they were too narrow for her to gain proper purchase on them. She attempted to straddle the walls and hike her way up, but just ended up falling on her bum.

"Need some help there?" Rumpelstiltskin called, obviously enjoying her struggling. This was an opportune time to get to know the girl better; and by such he meant her name. There was much mystical, magical power in a name. And knowing hers would most likely seal the contract. Seeing as a name was never printed upon it, he had no idea who she was.

"No way!" She called back defiantly, attempting the same technique and falling once more.

"You're going to be there forever, dear." He deadpanned. "Tell me your name and I will help you up."

She looked up at him, eyes squinting against his silhouette the sun caused.

"How do I know you won't just leave me down here?"

He clicked his tongue, eyes rolling upwards in exasperation.

"_What good is a bratty slave when they are stuck at the bottom of a well?"_ he jived. "_You can hardly clean my things from down there!_"

She seemed to realize that this was a good point, and almost caved, before her shoulder hunched and she began again. Rumpelstiltskin sighed in annoyance and impatience.

"You're going to be down there forever unless you get _my_ help." He reiterated, but she wasn't listening.

She tried jumping for the rope he was dangling down. Nothing. She tried digging her nails into the worn stone to climb. Nothing. She tried every way there possibly was over and over again until she finally got about three inches off of the ground before falling back into the pool of water.

"Done yet?" he asked lackadaisically, leaning down again but not falling over.

"Darn you, _fine!_" she barked up at him. "You want to know my stupid name?"

"Obviously, that's why we've been going through this for the past hour."

"I've been down here an _hour_?"

"Not the point, dearie. Now, let's hear that pretty little moniker."

She pursed her lips, eyes squinting as though it was causing her pain to actually think about it.

"My name…" she began quietly. "My name is Summerforth."

Rumpelstiltskin paused, gears working in his head.

"Sorry?" he called down.

"_Summerforth you idiot! I know it's an awful name, now just throw me the darn rope before I strangle you with it!"_ She screamed at the top of her lungs, face going red. "Seriously!"

Rumpelstiltskin pondered this. _Summerforth_; what an odd name. Although, he was one to talk, _not_.

"Alright Summer dearie." He crooned, throwing down the rope and holding onto it tightly. She breathed a sigh of relief and began to shimmy up the rope, the frayed ends obviously burning on her hands and legs but she didn't seem to care. A tough one, no doubt. A tough one named _Summerforth_.

When she was at the top he backed away, cloak billowing in the dry heat. She emerged dripping wet, shaking out her hair before her clothes. Some of the water landed on him and he welcomed it internally, for the outside had certainly gotten to him in that amount of time.

"Thanks." Summerforth mumbled, not able to look at him.

"Of course. I need you to clean up my mess in the workroom, so I would have let you up eventually." He said, waving his hand nonchalantly.

Summer looked up at him, blue eyes full of confusion and a hint of sadness.

"Not that you know my name I'm never getting out of here, huh?"

"Not even a chance, Summer dear."

"Stop that." She said, grabbing the buckets and tying one to the rope to lower it down. He was surprised she was still continuing with her work even after her little traumatic experience.

"Stop what?" he replied in a mocking tone.

"It's Summer_forth_. Call me that, or dear, but for the king's sakes not both." She groaned, heaving the heavy bucket up before lowering the other one.

"Why?" he inquired with a joking intent.

She hunched her shoulders, arms heaving as she hauled up the other bucket. She grabbed them both and began walking down the hill, and if he hadn't been waiting for an answer he wouldn't have heard her whispered response.

"My father called me that."

Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow, but shrugged, and began to walk back with her.

"Yes, well, _Summerforth_," he began. "I need the workroom mopped, the swept, the straw collected and piled up and sorted, the gold strands un-knotted, the sitting room wiped down and the vegetables from the garden picked. Understood? I have to go see a man about a pig." He stopped at the bottom of the hill, ready to go in another direction with the original spells in his pocket from earlier.

"Yessir." She replied, her usual cocky smile starting to reappear on her face. She loved it when he was enigmatic about his dealings. He didn't know why he humored her.

"Good."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Good."

She turned then and stomped into the house with the buckets, and he turned down the dirt path to the line of trees in the other distance to disappear for awhile.

"Summerforth." He tried the word on his tongue. "Sum-mer-for-thhhhhh…" he flicked it like a snake.

"Summer. Yes, that will do just nicely." He said to himself, giggling like a loony before vanishing into the midday heat.

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><p><strong>AN: Well? She finally has a name! It took so many polls online and among people I know o get this name picked, but people liked it's obscurity and it's ability to be shortened into Summer. So... I hope you like it! If you don't... Sorry...**

**Rate and Review loves! Thanks!**


	8. Ingredients for Stew pt I

**A/N: Hey everyone! So here comes another update, once again happily on the night of a new episode! But we have to wait another two weeks for the fallout! Agh! I'm hating this every two weeks and again thing, it's breaking my soul. Anyway, this chapter is slightly, okay, really longer than the others, and we're finally getting to the good stuff. This chapter is a two-possibly-three part thing going on, all titled "Ingredients for Stew" which comes into play later, so stay tuned!**

***On another note, for some reason my ff account had anonymous reviews disabled, and I'm fine with them, so I have them turned back on. I am kind of depressed with the lack of reviews to the growing up of updates lately, so could we maybe change that today? Please and thank you!**

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><p>Later on that evening they sat in their respective seats; Rumpelstiltskin kicked back with his legs over one arm of the chair and his back against the other and Summerforth leaning against the wall on her stool. Each had a bowl of her stew in hand, and each was sipping it idly.<p>

The Imp had returned only a little while ago, a gleaming smile on his face as he bolted up the stairs with some kind of white sinewy thing in his hands that she suspected had belonged to that pig he had mentioned earlier. She ignored him though in favor of finishing chopping the spices to add to the stew for dinner; if he even was to eat. She added them to the pot before covering it to let it simmer and headed up stairs to see what he was doing.

There were two rooms upstairs. One was the workroom, a large enough space that took up most of the top of the cottage, and was filled from the walls to the ceiling with things of different invention and all certainly from past deals, or even current ones. She had to clean it on a regular basis, and did a fine job if she said so herself, but every time Summerforth came back up after he had even two minutes in there it was even more of a disaster than the last time.

The other room was a complete mystery. It was always locked, so she couldn't go in there to clean. When she had asked him, the man had looked at her with a small smile and merely replied—

"_There are other, much more important rooms to be cleaned. Off you get."_

So when she had arrived at the top of the stairs and peered into the doorway to see him working in a cluttered and mismanaged room she was not surprised. He has thrown the—_whatever_—he had arrived with in a corner and begun working on something else; he was sitting at his spindle threading gold.

"How was the trip?" she asked as she leaned against the doorframe. He didn't turn around as he replied.

"Obviously I got what I wanted."

"In more ways than one."

"Of course."

It was a subject that didn't need to be spoken of. They both knew he had made a well triumph today, gotten her name as well as sealing a deal.

"Are you coming down for dinner? I changed something in the broth and I think it tastes less like grass now." She joked, walking further into the room to watch him work. It was a fascinating thing, watching someone thread straw into gold. Only one man in the whole wide world could do it, and he was sitting right beside her.

"Can't you see I'm _busy_?" he asked with an extravagant roll of his head and a groan. "I'm a busy busy man, dearie, run along." He met her eyes and they stared at each other for a moment, silent words passing through them.

"Yeah, alright." Summerforth replied, walking back out of the room. She trotted down the stairs and poured herself a bowl, changing her mind and pouring him one as well. Even if he wasn't going to be down here for it she would rather he have the option of eating or not, lest he get temperamental that she hadn't considered such. She placed his bowl on her stool and dragged it over to his chair before sitting down against the wall and beginning to eat.

She looked away from the stairway for one second, and the next he was in his chair, kicking the stool over towards her.

"No use sitting on the floor when there's a perfect sitting instrument right there." He scowled, and she grabbed it quickly to replace her spot on the floor.

And that was how they ended up eating in partially amiable silence.

The night was already crawling up on the horizon, the sun barely glinting in the window light from the kitchen area. She turned her head towards it slightly, admiring the orange rays and pink hues that came with the sunset. It was her favorite time of day, sunset, and it had been an awfully long day. Certainly one for resting and relaxation. If she was lucky, Summer hoped that maybe she could go to bed early.

On the rare occasions he allowed her to stop her chores to take an early rest she would do so, but wait until the cottage was silent before sneaking through the small door and going out to watch the stars. She had no idea whether Rumpelstiltskin knew that she did it or not, but if he did he had done nothing to stop her before. Summerforth actually had no idea where the man went during the night. But one twilight she had awoken and he was nowhere to be found, and she had stayed up the next only to hear him leave. It made it easier though, to sneak out. She never ran away, or attempted to hide where he could hopefully not find her. She sat on the hill below the well and watched the clouds drift by in the night and the stars blink in their ever-lasting hazy dance among the heavens.

When he finished his portion Rumpelstiltskin dropped it on the floor, eyes lazily watching its circular trail below him.

"You could get up and put it in the washing bin." She commented offhandedly not looking up from her food.

He turned his head towards her in a quick snap, a grimace on his face. "Then what would be the point of having you? Hop along, come on come on." He waved his hand wildly and she did as she was told just for the sake of being good.

She took their dishes to the kitchen and began scrubbing them so they would have use for them tomorrow, humming to herself as she did so. Chores were no problem to her as long as there was nothing to distract her. And unfortunately in this tiny household the number one distraction loved to make her angry. It wasn't as if Rumpelstiltskin was bad to her. Apart from his occasional outbursts of fury that usually led to her being obedient and docile for a few days, he was barely even a bother. Sure, he liked to add to her already completed chores, and mock her about her incompetence, and such other things, but it was not as though he abused her. He was actually very gracious. She knew her cooking skills were rusty with the small amount of materials she had to work with, and that she wasn't the most adept at many other skills, but she made due. And he was alright with that. He could hit her every time she failed but he didn't.

She poured some of the leftover warm water into the sink and began washing the dishes with a spare piece of rag, scrubbing madly to get out the extra lumps of drying food.

"Summerforth."

She looked over to find him standing in the doorway, leaning on it casually with arms crossed as he watched her work. He was probably mocking her attitude earlier from before dinner. She acknowledged she had heard him with a nod and an inclined ear when she turned back to her work.

"I called you girlie."

"I noticed." She said with a tilted head and a shrug.

"You should be a good little servant and acknowledge me with something better than _that_."

She turned to look at him, hands soapy from the washing and dripping on the floor and glared at him as hard as she could, but it couldn't last. She never won the arguments between them; he was Rumpelstiltskin which meant he was always right.

"What would you prefer then, _sir_?"

He strolled jauntily up to her, eyes sizing her up. He reached out and began to stroke her cheek with one finger, and she couldn't help but flinch. The last time they had actual contact he was choking her to death, and she was not ready to give him the chance to repeat it. It seemed to go noticed by him as well and he gripped her chin firmly, but not roughly. He clicked his tongue while he turned her head over to the side, then to the other. She tried to keep a firm gaze with him but found it almost impossible without breaking. His eyes were like liquid gold burning on her skin and it felt strange. It should have been hot but it was more like a stinging, tingling feeling. It raced up and down her skin where there was contact and made her shiver.

"I don't lie being called _sir_, for one thing." He snarled at her. "Especially when you're only doing it to humor me." His face became closer and his upper lip twitched into a snarl.

"_Don't humor me_." His accent was thick and voice rough, the stew from earlier still tingling his breath.

"Alright." Summerforth replied smoothly, trying to hide the uncertainty within.

He eyed her frostily, before jolting back and away. "Be up early tomorrow. I'm having you go on a run for me." He called over his shoulder as he ambled up the stairs and into his workroom. She waited to hear the tell-tale shutting of his door, but there came none. Instead, it sounded as if a door was being opened.

Was he really…?

Summerforth bolted as quietly as she could to the foot of the stairs, cursing the creaking of the old wooden floors as she went. If Rumpelstiltskin was going into the infamous locked room then she wanted as much of a glance as she could get into its depths. From her spot crouching on the bottom of the stairs she could see the door was open, and he was moving in between that room and the workroom. She didn't want to get caught, for fear of finding literal skeletons in Rumpelstiltskin's closet, but her curiosity got the best of her and she began to climb up on all fours, keeping her body low to the ground. Every inch of the room that was revealed to her was a little more disappointing, as she could only see a dusty room with rugs hanging from the wooden beams above. She stopped quickly when he emerged from the workroom, hustling and bustling and apparently mumbling to himself. When he went back into the workroom she kept going forward, determined to see _something_ to make it all worth it.

As she reached most of the way up the stairwell she saw something sparkle in the fading sun. It glimmered beautifully and she was about to climb up another step to see it clearer when a sudden dark figure stood in her way.

"_What the hell do you think you are doing?_"

She looked up to a face livid with rage. Not even the other night sent any comparison to the look on his visage at that exact moment. All those months ago came flooding back into her at one time; the nightmares of a face glittering gold with the smirk of the devil lingering behind stained teeth. The fear of having to leave, the anger at being sold away, none of it mattered so long as that cold dread filled her. And that's exactly what Rumpelstiltskin wanted.

"I just uh…" she couldn't think of a good excuse, but continued to try and defend herself anyway. "You seemed very upset and I er…"

"_WHAT?" _He raged. "_Out with it, if it's oh so important!" _he lifted his foot and kicked her down.

Summerforth toppled down the staircase and onto the floor and her back crunching with a sickening noise. She attempted to get up but just as soon as she could feel the breath in her lungs she felt his hand close on her hair and wrench her upwards. She let out a scream of pain as he flung her across the room and into his chair, knocking them both over. He towered over her trembling form as she tried to back away from him, but only received blows to the stomach as she tried.

"_How DARE you. How dare you even LOOK at it! That room is none of your business as I so specifically said earlier. But NO, noooo you just couldn't keep your curious little eyes to yourself, could you! You bitch!" _He paused every once in awhile to throw another kick to her, inching dangerously closer to her face every time.

"I'm sorry!" She coughed out through empty lungs, tears flowing down her cheeks. This only served to make him angrier it seemed, and suddenly he was kneeling in her face, eyes of liquid gold now raging with the fire of the sun.

"You _will_ be." He hissed. "Oh lord you _will_ be." He took hold of her hair once more, dragging her scrambling figure through the tiny house.

"Pick up the pace now dearie, wouldn't want you to get _hu~urt!_" he cackled as she was knocked into the wall frames.

Summerforth finally grabbed onto a corner and was able to pick herself up, stumbling over her own feet as he yanked her into her small room. He threw her in and into her straw lump of a bed, whole body vibrating with anger and hands clenching on air. He looked absolutely murderous.

She truly knew now what people meant when they spoke of the Rage of Rumpelstiltskin. When she would occasionally take a trip in with her father to town she would hear of the war going on in the land and of a man who could take down an entire army, whether it be the King's or the Enemy's, with a snap of his fingers. And now all of that energy was focused on her. And she was scared.

"Get some sleep _girl,_ I'm still having you go out in the morning." He said with a wicked sort of calmness to oppose his body language. "I'm going to have you finish my deal!" he laughed manically while strolling from the room. He slammed the wooden door behind him, the echo of it reverberating through the walls.

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><p>He lost most of his anger as he retreated up the stairs and into his special room. It was his home away from home; while he was testing the girl here and getting her ready to serve him in a much larger place; his beautiful castle. Not that he cared about the place. A place to work was a place to work, no matter how large or small it was or how ornately decorated it was.<p>

Rumpelstiltskin shut the door behind him slowly, not wanting to disturb any of his precious objects. Two puppets hung in a corner atop a few boxes, beside them a golden chalice, a blue wizard's hat, and the head of a rather large and quite possibly silver boar. All around the room were his various conquests, all laid out like a list to him but a jumbled up mess to others. But the things in this room were so precious that he did not want them touched or even looked at by another living soul, especially not _her_.

He walked deeper into the room, which was larger than his spindle room, just so as well. There were rolled up rugs in one corner, and then a few hanging from the walls. He usually had the window covered by a thick tapestry but had pushed it back today because he was feeling particularly jovial today. Until the incident with _her_ that was.

_How dare she_, he thought loudly, his head pounding with the things that had happened in the past few minutes. It all had blurred so fast by him, his reactions were not his own, they were out of his head. But then again, it was all her fault. He would not have reacted so badly if she had just stayed in her place and finished the dishes before returning to her room. He might have even let her sneak out to the hill like she enjoyed. He had known about that since the day she had begun it. She never ran, or met anyone in the nightfall, but she laid there among the stars while he sat in his special room unmoving from his spot at the window where she had never thought to look. Once or twice he had even entertained joining her just to see what was going on in that crazy and unpredictable mind of hers. She was captured, a prisoner for his own amusement really, and yet she never once tried to escape. That in enough was a fantastic and disconcerting thing, and he wanted to know so desperately what made her choose not to; what made her choose to stay no matter how much she obviously disliked it.

Huffing, he continued to check the things around him as though merely the placing of her brilliant hazel eyes upon them would have ruined them somehow. But no, he knew exactly what she had been looking at; it was the highest object in the room. He kept it on its marble pedestal from his castle, something so dear to him that he could never part with it, ever.

Rumpelstiltskin removed the cup from its velvet cushion and held it gently. He still felt the urge to break it; to smash it against the wall like it's brethren in pure defiance for the woman and what she had said.

_Belle, his Belle._

He turned the cup over in his fingers still trembling with rage, and decided in the best interest of the cup to put it down and look away. He walked from his special room taking sure care to lock it before sitting at his stool in the workroom and beginning to thread more straw.

The spinning of the wheel made him forget after all.

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><p>Summerforth sat huddled up in a ball, nursing a split lip and a possibly sprained hand. She wanted to cry harder, to escape, to run as fast as she could and cry out for help; for salvation from her current predicament. Tomorrow would be undoubtedly worse. But she knew that she wouldn't, she never would.<p>

As the moon rose high she finally drifted off into a restless sleep, dreams of the beautiful object she saw on a pedestal filling her uneasy mind.

Dreams of a porcelain cup, decorated with a small flower and glaze, with a chip on its rim.

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you all enjoyed it! Next chapter she finally gets to interact with other characters, which I as a writer am very glad for. So, please rate and review, it makes me happy!**

**Ciao everyone!**


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